


And So it Begins

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Marauder's Era Hogwarts, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Gryffindor Dean, Harry's a dumb bitch so he's not here, Hufflepuff Castiel, Hufflepuff John, Hufflepuff Sam, Ravenclaw Sherlock, ftm Sherlock, so many Hufflepuffs basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	And So it Begins

John Watson wandered around King’s Cross station, looking for Platform 9 ¾. He knew better than to ask a guard again: The last one had looked at him like he was crazy. No, he had to find it himself. His parents were on vacation and Harriet had had to get to work, so she had dropped him off in the parking lot. As John wandered around, he saw a girl his own age, but a bit taller, pushing a trolley with a trunk and a raven in a cage. She was following an older boy with a similar trolley; and both of them were wearing silver and black wizard’s robes.  
‘Come along, Sherlock, or we’ll miss the train! It’s your first year to Hogwarts, you can’t be late!’ The older boy called behind him.  
‘Excuse me! Are you going to Hogwarts as well?’ John asked the girl called Sherlock as he ran to catch up with her.  
‘Of course I am! Do I look like a squib to you?’ Sherlock asked, turning to look at John. ‘Oh. You’re muggle-born, aren’t you? Never mind then, can’t expect you to know. Yes, I’m going to Hogwarts. You can’t find your way to the platform, right? Just follow Mycroft’s lead, he’s my brother there. What’s your name? Mine’s Sherlock Holmes.’  
‘John Watson. So, are your whole family…?’  
‘Purebloods, yeah. Well, I mean, my older brother Sherrinford is a squib, but my mother says we oughtn’t talk about that. Apparently he’s a disgrace to the family name or something, but I don’t get it. Sherrinford is nice. Nicer than Mycroft, most of the time.’  
‘Sorry, but… What’s a squib?’  
‘Pretty much the opposite of you. A squib is somebody who’s born to magical parents but can’t do magic.’  
‘And what did you say I was?’  
‘Muggle-born. But you’ll probably get worse names than that, there’s a lot of pure-blood supremacy at Hogwarts, according to Mycroft.’

Just then, Mycroft stopped, indicating that they were at the right column, so they waited for him to signal that the passage was free. There was already a family passing through: Three school-aged boys, two around John and Sherlock’s age, and a middle-aged man with a beer gut and a ball cap, all speaking in hushed American accents. When the other family were through, Mycroft signalled for John and Sherlock to go first, so Sherlock ran, head-long, at the barrier. John’s eyes went wide as she disappeared through what had seemed to be solid brick two seconds earlier.  
‘Well? Do you want to miss the train?’ Mycroft asked, snapping John back to reality.  
‘No, sorry,’ John startled as he started to run in the direction of the barrier. His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily as he drew near the barrier, then opened again when he realized he wasn’t going to hit it. He turned at the sound of somebody laughing and scowled as he realized it was Sherlock.  
‘Your face! You thought you were really going to hit the wall, didn’t you? It’s bewitched, you know, it only lets magic folk through. I was half wondering if you would-- Oh, look, the train!' The whistle had just been blown, and the steam was starting. John and Sherlock ran to take their bags and pets to the baggage cars before clamouring aboard just as the train started to move.

‘Oh, good, you did make it on. I’m sure mummy will be pleased you’re not a total failure,’ Mycroft lilted as he passed them in the train’s corridor a few minutes on.  
‘Well, I’m sure not both of us could be prefects, Mycroft,’ Sherlock sneered back.  
‘Come on, John, let’s get a compartment,’ she said, dragging John by his arm behind herself.  
‘Let’s just hope you’re in Slytherin, Sherlock, or mummy will be quite upset,’ Mycroft called behind them.  
‘What did he mean, about being in Slytherin? What’s Slytherin? And why will your mum be upset if you’re not in it?’ John inquired as he peered into each compartment, hoping for an empty one.  
‘There are school houses at Hogwarts, and they’re kind of like your family, in a way. You sleep in a dormitory with your housemates, and you eat all your meals with them, though that’s a little more flexible, you can eat at another house’s table if you want unless it’s a special occasion. All of your spare time after hours is spent in the house’s common room, and you can either earn or lose points for your house. There are four of them: Gryffindor, for brave people, Ravenclaw, for intelligent people, Hufflepuff, for loyal people, and Slytherin, for people like my family, who are cunning and ambitious.’  
‘And where do you want to go, Sherlock?’ John asked.  
‘What do you mean? My whole family have been in Slytherin for-’  
‘That’s not what I mean. I mean, where do you want to be? You don’t sound so keen on being in Slytherin, so I assume you’ve got other plans?’  
‘Never make assumptions, John. Look, this is the last compartment before the prefect carriages, let’s just ask if we can sit in here.’

Sherlock slid the door open, knocking on the glass. ‘Hello, d’you mind if we sit in here? These are the last seats,’ she asked the compartment’s occupants: a stocky boy with short brown hair and bright green eyes, and a bookish-looking boy wearing a tan trenchcoat.  
‘No, I don’t mind, please sit,’ said the bookish one, a little too eagerly, in an American accent.  
‘I’m Sherlock Holmes, and this is John… Sorry, what was your last name, John?’ Sherlock asked.  
‘Watson. What’s your name?’  
‘Castiel Winchester. This is my adoptive brother, Dean. Are you guys first years, too?’ he asked.  
‘Yea, we are. Castiel, if you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you two at the Salem Academy? It’s in the U.S., right?’ John inquired, hesitating slightly. Salem was a bit of a tender subject in the wizarding world, even to this day.  
‘Our uncle Bobby teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He got Dumbledore to switch us out of Salem. So, are you guys from wizarding families?’  
‘Sherlock is, but I’m ‘muggle-born’, whatever that means. How about you?’  
‘My mom was a witch, but she never told my dad. She died before I even remember, though, so I might as well be muggle-born. We don't know about Cas. What houses do you guys want to be in?’  
‘Yea, Sherlock, what house do you want to be in?’  
‘….Ravenclaw,” Sherlock barely breathed.  
‘Sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.’  
‘Ravenclaw, okay???’ Sherlock pretty much yelled at John.  
‘I’m stupid, though, so that’s never going to happen. I’m going to be in Slytherin, like everyone else in my family.’

John furrowed his brow as Sherlock began to climb up onto the luggage rack, using the window ledge as a step.  
‘Sherlock, who told you that? You know an awful lot for a stupid person. You knew my parents were non-magical, and I never told you that. And so far, you’ve managed to answer every one of my questions,’ he noted as he looked up at Sherlock, who was now curled up facing the wall.  
‘Come down from there, Sherlock, it’ll be more comfortable to lie on the seats. Cas, come sit over here, we’ll let her sulk for a while. So what were you doing before you got your letters? I was away at boarding school, my mum phoned to tell me.’  
‘You wouldn’t believe me,’ Dean said, a sad smile touching his lips.  
‘Try me,’ John replied. ‘Their family hunts demons, John, don’t make them talk about it. Seeing a demon is bad enough, let alone killing them,’ came Sherlock’s muffled voice.  
‘How did you…?’ Sherlock sat up to face them, the top of her head brushing the ceiling.

  
‘There’s a glass flask of salt attached to each of your belts; who would carry that unless they were warding off ghosts? Nobody, let’s move on then. You’re dressed in layers, lots of flannel. You’re prepared in case it’s cold, but you’re not unprepared for it to be hot, either, so you must travel around a lot. Then there’s your accent and the fact that you didn’t want to go to Salem. What’s Massachusetts known for? Hunting witches. A Hunting wizard would be shot on sight, so you can’t be seen, which suggests that you’re rather well-known within the hunting community. Then there’s the look in your eyes. You’ve seen much more violence than anyone our age should ever have to see, which suggests that not only are your family hunters, you’re directly involved. All this combined with your last name, Winchester, and the fact that Castiel here is an angel of the Lord, makes it a fairly easy deduction.’ Just then, the train jerked, sending Sherlock flying into John, Dean, and Cas' laps. 

‘Well, Sister Dear, it seems you’re making friends alright, aren’t you?’ Mycroft lilted from the corridor as he slid the compartment door open. Sherlock got up, dusting herself off, and stuck her chin out in her brother’s direction.  
‘I fell.’  
‘I suppose you were up in the baggage rack? You always were so stupid.’ John stood up, bringing himself to his (Not very impressive) full height as Cas looked Sherlock over in case of injuries and Dean blinked in confusion of Sherlock's last deduction.  
‘Why would you even say that? She’s your little sister! You’re supposed to stick up for her, not make her feel worthless! Sherlock‘s really intelligent, if you ask me. She figured out I was muggle-born without me telling her, and she’s just figured out a ton about Cas and Dean just from looking at them. Now, if you would kindly bugger off., I think she’s hurt my rib.’ Mycroft raised his eyebrows, clearly astonished at having been stood up to by a first-year, and a muggle-born at that, but decided to let it lie, respecting John’s bravery.  
‘You four had best get changed, we’re getting close to Hogsmeade. I hope to see you in the common room, little sister.’


End file.
